


Mourning After

by ApexOnHigh



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode: s05e04 Loss, First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, M/M, background Olivia/Alex, emotional tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApexOnHigh/pseuds/ApexOnHigh
Summary: It's the evening after Alex's funeral and neither John nor Fin wants to spend the night alone.





	Mourning After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sidewinder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/gifts).



"Thanks again for the ride today."

"No problem." Fin pulled over in front of John's apartment building, double-parking for the quick drop-off. "Save on tolls and gas, right?"

"Right." Night was already falling, the days growing shorter now that Autumn had recently arrived. It had been a long and difficult day, and John was feeling emotionally, if not physically, exhausted. He should be glad to just head upstairs and try to get some sleep.

Only sleep had been hard to come by this past week. He had a feeling none of them had been getting much of it, and being alone with his thoughts only meant dwelling on too many _could-haves, should-haves,_ and _what-ifs._

"You want to come up?" he asked Fin, trying not to sound too eager. Too desperate.

"For what?"

John shrugged. "Whatever. A drink. Some company. The additional wallowing in our collective misery, if you haven't had your fill of that already."

He expected Fin to say no, and that would be fine. Long day. A lot for them to process. He was no doubt sick of John's babbling and wanted to get home for some peace and quiet.

"Gotta park the car somewhere else if I'm gonna stay for a while," Fin said instead, catching John by welcome surprise.

"Try around the other side of the park; usually should be a spot available this time of the night." He hoped that would be the case. His building was across the street from Bennet Park, in Hudson Heights. The park was a small public space, a few blocks of greenery and playgrounds surrounding the highest natural point in Manhattan—and the former site of Fort Washington.

On a normal day, John would have regaled Fin with such bits of trivia as they circled, looking for a parking space. Tonight wasn't the night for it.

They'd just come back from a friend's funeral, after all. Everything else seemed, well...altogether insignificant and unimportant in contrast. 

*

Funny, in a certain way, how it had happened on another night when Fin had volunteered to drive John home. They'd been at their usual bar celebrating, thinking the danger from Zapata—the worst of it at least—was over. And in fact he and Fin had barely retrieved Fin's car from the precinct parking garage and started heading uptown when Elliot's call came on John's cell.

John could still hear his panicked words, feel the hard knot twisting in his gut as reality came crashing down around them.

_"They got her. Son of a bitch, they shot Alex!"_

John could also still hear Olivia's sobs and screams in the background. That was a sound he knew all too well—the anguish of someone losing the person they loved the most.  

*

John turned on the lights, hung up his hat and coat. "What can I get you? Beer? Something harder, something softer?"

"What're you having?" Fin asked.

"I'm sticking with a cup of tea." He'd drunk enough alcoholic beverages—too many—at the luncheon after the funeral. The Cabots had hosted a lovely memorial to their daughter, at their lovely home in Connecticut. It had all been very solemn, very dignified.

Very stuffy and cold, in an uptight, _if-only-our-daughter-had-gone-into-corporate-instead-of-criminal-law_ , WASP-y fashion.

"Make one for me, too," Fin said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, so long as it's not some herbal-fruity shit."

John came as close to smiling as he'd managed all day at that, and went to put his kettle on to boil. He picked out a nice Oolong tea he generally liked for later in the day; not too much caffeine, good at being soothing without over-stimulating.

"Sorry the place is a mess," he called into the living room.

"When's it not?"

"Fair enough." John pulled out two of his favorite mugs, clean from the cabinet, but busied himself washing them again while he waited on the water. Then he fussed around, looking for any snacks or munchies to put out with the drinks. His fridge and pantry were understocked to a criminal degree, but he did find an unopened jar of peanuts, by miracle not past their "best by" date. He supposed that and what remained from an oversized bag of M&Ms would have to suffice.

He liked having Fin here. Having _anyone_ here besides himself to talk to or make tea for, when it came down to it. Five years now, thereabouts, since he'd moved to New York, and he'd spent the vast majority of his free nights in this city alone. Extricating himself from his last marriage had been a slow, costly and painful process which had left him reluctant to try seeking out love again. Even casual dating or sex seemed too much work, more effort than he had energy for, most days.

So Fin's company was welcome, on the rare occasions when he didn't simply drop John off at the end of the night. He usually didn't stay for long, unless it was so late that it made sense to crash here on John's sofa until morning. And those nights John was generally too tired to do more than collapse onto his own bed—though it was nice to wake up with someone to share a cup of coffee with before heading in to work.

He wondered how the others were spending their nights tonight, now that they were all likely home as well. Elliot had his family—Kathy, the kids... He'd be fine. Probably hug them all a little tighter tonight and say an extra prayer for Alex during Sunday service, but then move on.

Don? He'd seen enough fallen soldiers through the years that it would hurt, but he'd survive. They might be seeing him at a few extra AA meetings this week, but he'd continue on. He was the captain, it's what he had to do.

'Liv was the one about whom John worried. She'd been such a wreck that night—at the scene, at the hospital, and then completely cold and closed off since then. John had tried those following days, once or twice, to reach out to her. But she'd shut him down as fast as he'd manage to say _"How are you—"_ or _"Do you need—"_

_"I'm okay, John. I'll be fine."_

Sure. She'd be fine, all right. The woman she loved was dead—the woman she'd only begun to accept her feelings for, whom she hadn't even spoken to about them.

Love gone before it even had a chance to be acknowledged.

John knew what that felt like. He'd been there himself, only a few years before.

He'd been thinking of Sarah Logan a lot this week.

And remembering how he'd said he'd never let another chance at love, should it come unexpectedly to him, die before it had an opportunity to bloom.

*

"Here you go," John said as he brought their tea and snacks out to the living room. He'd added a touch of honey and milk to each mug to lighten the tea without, he hoped, making it too "fruity" for Fin's taste.

"Thanks."

He sat next to Fin, who'd been flipping through the magazines on John's coffee table while waiting. He'd put the tv on as well, the local news. Alex's death was already long forgotten in favor of this week's scandalous crimes and stories. John took a small sip of his tea, savoring its warmth, then sat back with a sigh.

"I hate funerals," he said.

"Yeah, well...who doesn't?" came Fin's reply.

"My brother, considering he runs a funeral home."

"That's gotta be weird. Why'd he end up goin' into that field, anyway? Wasn't a family business, was it?"

"No, he bought out another family's funeral home when they were looking to sell. I don't know why he got into that business. Though maybe it was something related to losing our father when we were both pretty young. I guess we both became fascinated by death, but in different ways." At Fin's curious expression, John elaborated, "Bernie buries the dead. I got into Homicide to try to figure out how people ended up dead in the first place."

Fin seemed to accept that answer, pondering it and perhaps other mysteries of the universe while he took a cautious taste of his own tea. He grabbed a few candies, popped them in his mouth, then asked, "You ever think about if there's actually anything after this life, when we die?"

"Not if I can avoid it," John answered. "I guess I tend to think this is it. You get your one shot at life, and when it's over, it's over. I'm not even sure I'd _want_ there to be some kind of everlasting existence. I mean, where? What would we do with endless time? Hang around up in the clouds watching humanity continue to fuck things up until we destroy the planet? No thanks, I'll take a nice eternal nap instead. What about you?"

"I dunno. Guess when I was a kid I believed, 'cause momma took me to church every Sunday, wanted to make sure I had the fear of God in me to stay on a straight and clean path. But then I got older and started really thinkin' about it. Started doubting if all that Bible talk, God and the angels, if it made any real sense."

"It doesn't. Religion as a social structure, to keep anarchy at bay and enforce certain moral codes? Maybe it works, to an extent...at least until someone dreams up another religion and everyone starts killing each other over whose god is better."

"Hmph. Suppose you're right."

"Never thought the day would come that I'd hear you say _that_ ," John joked.

"Even a broken clock, John."

_"Touché."_

*

"'Liv's been taking this pretty hard," Fin said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them as they drank their tea and ignored the droning tv newsmen.

"Hard to lose a good friend like that."

"Yeah. A friend." John raised an eyebrow at Fin's tone, the way he said 'friend'. "C'mon, you know there was something more than 'just friends' going on between them," Fin argued.

"They never had the chance for that, actually...Or so I was told."

"By who?"

"Olivia—not that she made it any sort of regular habit to discuss her romantic life with me, mind you. But...she mentioned it when we were working the Myers case together a while back." John thought back on their late-night conversation over coffee and greasy diner food, after calling an end to an unproductive stake-out. "She told me that she wasn't sure what to do. That Alex had admitted to the obvious, that she was interested, but Olivia didn't know how to respond. That she definitely had feelings for Alex, too, but..."

"She was scared? Never attracted to someone of the same sex before?"

"Something like that." John remembered her words far more clearly, but didn't feel right sharing the details of what had been said in confidence.

_"When I'm around Alex I feel...like something's right that I didn't even know had felt wrong until that moment."_

_"That sounds an awful lot like love, Olivia."_

_"I know. And it feels an awful lot like it, too. But I don't...what if I try to pursue things with Alex and realize I can't do it? That I love her friendship and find her beautiful and incredible but...physically and mentally it's not me? That I'm not gay, or bisexual. I wouldn't want to hurt her like that, or have it ruin our friendship—nevermind working relationship."_

_"You'll never know for sure if you don't give it a shot. Would you rather take a chance and have it fail, or never try and be left with all that uncertainty?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"I'm not exactly someone with the best track record in romance, so maybe you shouldn't come to me for advice. But if things haven't exactly been clicking for you when it comes to men, why not give something different a try?"_

"Damn. That's a shame," Fin said, pulling John back out of his memories.

"Yeah. It is."

Fin finished his tea, put it down on the coffee table, then yawned and rolled his neck. "I guess I should get goin'."

"If you've had your fill of driving for today, you could crash here for tonight," John offered. Just as a matter of practicality—or at least, he wanted it to sound as such.

"I could. Tomorrow's Saturday. Might not get a call."

"We can only hope." John stood to collect their mugs, bring them back to the kitchen. "I'll get you some pillows, a blanket."

"Thanks."

John washed the mugs out in the sink, gave them a quick swipe with a dish towel before leaving them on the drying rack. When he turned around, ready to head to the bedroom to retrieve some linens, he found Fin in the kitchen doorway, watching him.

John was confused, for a moment. Fin's expression seemed...odd? Intense, but not angry, more...

He almost wanted to say lustful. However John was sure that would be his own mind and carefully protected desires projecting.

Wouldn't it?

But then Fin stepped closer.

He moved in to John's personal space and, before John could fully realize what was happening, kissed him hard on the mouth. Kissed him, and held him close with a firm grip on his shoulders. John needed to know why but at the same time he didn't want to question it. He just wanted Fin to keep doing what he was doing, and tried to encourage it by slipping his arms about the man's waist, moaning into that kiss.

But that actually seemed to surprise Fin enough that he pulled back, a step, dropping his hands and apologizing, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." John wasn't letting go. He _wouldn't_ let go, not now. Not without some more explanation—or any explanation, really, at all.

"No?"

"No." John went for the kiss, this time, wanting to reassure Fin that the desire was mutual. He felt Fin relax, and maybe...maybe he didn't need that explanation, after all. It might be better, easier, to simply let things be.

Not miss that chance when it came along.

He released Fin's lips—eventually—and offered, "My bed's a lot more comfortable than the sofa. And I...don't especially feel like sleeping alone tonight."

"Neither do I."

John nodded, and smiled, his hands dropping away from Fin's back with a gentle caress. "C'mon," he said, turning off the kitchen light and heading toward the bedroom.

Fin was right behind him.

He wasn't sure where this would lead. Wasn't sure if this was a good idea or not. But he'd be happy to have someone to hold tonight, and to not spend another evening alone.


End file.
